


Between the Bars

by jeanthememelover



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Song fic, Unfinished
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7356160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeanthememelover/pseuds/jeanthememelover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after x-men apocalypse, Warren is recovering (or should I say failing at recovering?) from the crash. It's a song fic: Between the Bars by Elliot Smith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Bars

**_Drink up baby, stay up all night_ **

The alcohol felt like acid sliding down his throat. It dulled his senses in a way that made it easier to cope, and lately all he could hope for was to do just that: cope. After crawling from the wreckage of the plane, healed just enough to be able to drag his body out of the scrap metal, Warren almost wished he hadn’t survived. What did he have to come back to? His supposed allies left him to die and now he was utterly alone. Again. At some point in his miserable life he should’ve learned to stop getting his hopes up. He took another swig of the bottle clutched in his hand.

 

He couldn’t remember the last time he'd gotten some proper rest. Every time he went to sleep sober he'd have the same recurring nightmare of the crash, like it was a song set on repeat until his ears started bleeding. So he didn’t sleep, unless drinking until he passed out counted. Stealing alcohol was the only cause for leaving the old dimly lit storage shed he was hiding out in.

 

**_With the things you could do, you won’t but you might_ **

 

Warren felt like he was rotting from the inside out. But maybe it was the other way around. The crash had shattered most of his metal wings, and underneath his feathery ones were barely holding it together. If he bothered to take better care of himself they might have grown back by now, but he could barely look at his wings without feeling a sickening amount of guilt that threatened to completely swallow his will to live entirely. As much hate and bitterness he held towards others who had looked down on him, or treated him as nothing more than a caged dog, it couldn’t compare to his own self-loathing.

 

And after everything he'd done… aiding someone who wanted to take over the earth, watching with a sense of satisfaction as Apocalypse took countless lives. Warren couldn’t even remember why he had even agreed to it. Every choice he made since he had gotten his metal wings from Apocalypse felt like a dream, no, a _nightmare_. But there was no fixing it now. The only thing that slightly eased his conscious is that Apocalypse seemed to have been defeated.

 

**_The potential you’ll be, that you’ll never see_ **

Warren felt like he was wasting away. All the days began blurring together, until nothing seemed real anymore. One morning he had a rude awakening when the owner of the junk in the shed paid it a visit and found him passed out on the old sofa. He had been tossed out on his ass and threatened but luckily the guy didn’t seem to have to heart to call the cops. With absolutely nowhere to go, the blonde had ended up passing out on a park bench god knows where.

When he woke up, it was in a bed, and there was an IV in his arm. Before he had a chance to panic too much, he heard a vaguely familiar voice.

 

_After surviving such a terrible crash I would’ve assumed you would have taken better care of yourself, Warren._

 

He winced visibly, like bringing up the memory had actually stung him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his voice scratchy after so long without use.

 

_Don’t I? Look, I know you’ve been through a lot. But we can help you._

 

Warren closed his eyes. “I don’t need your help.”

 

“We can give you a home.”

 

His heart nearly skipped a beat in his chest. But in a split second his face pulled into an ugly sneer, his handsome features overshadowed with anger. Of course the telepath would pry into his mind and find his weakness, and play off it. But he wasn’t going to be anyone's puppet. Not ever again.

 

He yanked the IV out of his arm. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

 

**_The promises you’ll only make_ **

****

No one tried to stop him from leaving. He could see the front door down the hall and he was fastly approaching it. A loud ringing had Warren clutching his ears and spewing out cuss words like a sailor, as kids began crowding the hall. It made Warren wish his wings were in better shape so he could get a good 5 foot radius of personal space. Having so many people around him made him agitated, so he moved closer to the wall.

****

Fighting through the sea of people seemed like more trouble than it was worth, so Warren stayed near the wall, glaring daggers at anyone who had the guts to look his way. A couple more minutes and the hall was clear. His eyes were fixed on the door, he was almost out of here.

 

“ _Engel_?” 

Warren stopped in his tracks, but didn’t turn around.

 

“ _Es tut mir Leid…_ ”

 

He drew in a shaky breath, but refused to turn around. “I’m not coming back here.” And he walked out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably make a few more chapters since I didn't even get through half the song, unless I give up which is also highly possible.


End file.
